


All The Spoils to a Well-Played Game

by She_Who_Only_Knows_War



Series: Traveling The Inner World [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Transformation, Awkward Sexual Situations, Enemies With Benefits, F/M, It's a thing now, Jintaborouhk-Centric, Oh look, Please Kill Me, Surprises for Jintaborouhk, Threatened Pedophilia, Were-Animal Sex, Which Counts as Foreplay Dontcha Know, discussions of knotting, shitty fight scenes, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She_Who_Only_Knows_War/pseuds/She_Who_Only_Knows_War
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jintaborouhk wins the National Tournament.</p><p>And catches the attention of Sven, who is ready to find her sexuality and become a woman.</p><p>She really should have let Sorajin pick her suitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Spoils to a Well-Played Game

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, welcome back!
> 
> I'll eventually pick up my other stuff but I've been quite lazy, recently.
> 
> That aside, I've been reading a/b/o fics, and this is what's come out of it.

The Neutral Trading Grounds are pretty calm. The stars twinkling like jewels in a Royal Mok'ket. Some sort of happy medley drifts from the Pleasure Quarters like smoke through any space it's allowed.

Jintaborouhk takes his time to swagger down the dirt lanes. Tarshish and Full-Bloods walk past him. Humans converse in large groups. All of them glance at him and either turn away or glare. Jintaborouhk is fine with that.

A small, Human shadow leans in one of the doorways, the fire light burns feverish, brighter here than anywhere else.

"If it isn't the Skin-Walker from the other side of the Trading Grounds." It's now that he smells the ash and smoke. The bitter Haruyan oil - what Fire Affinities use for their constantly dry, cracking skin.

"Oh, that's cute. You actually think I have time for you."

"You would if you knew the offer I had for you."

Jintaborouhk pauses then, the left corner of his lips lifting up in curiosity, dark brow raising. "Oh?"

Out of the deep shadows, steps Sorajin. The metal flame holder, hanging from the corner of the eaves of the hut, goes suddenly dark.

This isn't Sorajin's dwelling. This isn't his usual haunt either.

The Human shadow is silent as it steps up to the Skin-Walker, a package is settled in his hand and the shadow moves on.

Jintaborouhk settles the package into his bag and makes his way through the rest of the grounds.

xXx

Ma'hale is reclined in furs and stuffed pillows, eyes closed and head tilted towards the ceiling. His bare left hand strokes Mercy's hair.

His head is in Ma'hale's lap, eyes watching Jintaborouhk intently. "You're back sooner than expected."

"Here's an idea," He's careful to turn his voice light, cheerful, "go fuck yourself."

Mercy's expression drops from curious to annoyed, heavy lashes lower over pin-head pupils. "Go lick some paint. Don't you have anything better to do?"

Jintaborouhk smiles, razor sharp teeth glinting in the light. "Master Ma'hale, I'd appreciate if you pulled your pet to heel."

Mercy's fingers twitch from their place, dangling off their armrests, bangles looping lazy around his wrists. "I'm going to zap you like a fucking insect."

Jintaborouhk smirks. "Suck my dick, whore."

Mercy's body attempts to propel upwards, heat behind his eyes, but Ma'hale's hand keeps him firmly against his lap. If anything, the youngest man in the room jumps when Mercy's struggle rubs against his crotch. "Shit, _Mercy!_ Stop."

Instantly stilling, Mercy's eyes are nearly black from anger. His gaze meets Jintaborouhk's and the Skin-Walker's pants tighten slightly. Even while his hair stands on end, sensing a coming lightening strike. He thinks about asking Ma'hale to force Mercy to suck his cock.

"No," Says Ma'hale. He must have seen the desire glittering in his eyes. The Tarshish smiles, looking awfully smug. "Mercy is my personal sex toy."

Mercy's entire countenance becomes blank. Jintaborouhk smirks at him. "Don't worry too much. One of these days, you'll be begging for my dick."

"I'm going to fuck you _up._ "

With a wider smirk and a shrug, Jintaborouhk turns and swaggers back to his quarters, listening to Ma'hale's fading conversation with Mercy.

Dashiir passes him in the hall and he bows low as he's passed. " _Nilang,_ " He says. _Pardon._

"Kok'kell." _Congratulations,_ Dashiir replies, doesn't even look at him.

Further down the hall and left at the fork takes him to another hall. Three doors down and to the left, he swings open the door with the their word for Fourth Lieutenant.

Tossing the package from his bag onto the desk, he sits on the Human-styled futon. It creaks and the soft, white fur tickles his skin as he unlaces the boots the men from the Great Beast gave him.

Next door, Idai and Tuyan are fighting. Jintaborouhk isn't worried. The screaming and throwing and hitting always becomes screaming and fucking and _annoying._

A piece of parchment sits unassuming beside his recently acquired package.  
The sound of gasping, rapid breath is muffled as he leans back against the futon.

Standing, reveling in the feeling of being bare-footed, he moves back to the desk, lightly tracing his trophy from yesterday's tournament. Eyes the package with conflicting curiosity and distaste.

Surely anything from Renjin's side of the family contains poison.

But Sorajin is definitely the type to stick to the rules. He wouldn't attack anyone in this safe place.

Someone slams against the wall that separates them from him and he jumps, frowns as his thoughts are startled. A whimper sounds nearby.

The woman on the other side starts begging for it _'harder.'_ With an eye roll and a simple flick of his wrist, his claw slices the rope on the package and it neatly falls open. The box revealed contains two bottles of soothing and healing lotion, three small jars of lubricant, a tube of Heat Gel the size of his forefinger, a small bag of Quint, and a note at the bottom that reads:  
**Congratulations.**  
**The Old Tower in SouthEastern Pride Territory.  
Three days from now.**

Jintaborouhk shivers at all the different propositions Sorajin could be making.

His sister?

His wife?

Maybe Youten or that Human boy he calls brother?

Too many possibilities. Most of their Clan is made up of women and a few feminine men.

Part of him is annoyed at Sorajin's arrogance, assuming that Jintaborouhk would open the package in time to meet him at the Tower. The rest of him is thrilled at the taboo that awaits him.

It is, as a general rule, frowned upon to breed with any other than his own kind.

Not so for Tarshish, Humans, and Full-Bloods. But Skin-Walkers have always had unstable half-breed progeny.

And while he could care less about the rules his Clan has set in place, he doesn't want to be cast out. No, he has too many plans to be an exile.

Which means he'll have to be crafty around Mercy. Ma'hale is oblivious to all but his own world. Unaware of rules and etiquette and how things should be properly done.

Mercy, on the other hand, is rapt. Perfect. In order to make up for his Master's belligerence.

Taking one of the jars in hand, he eases open the lid and breathes the minty scent.

Definitely Sorajin's work.

Putting the lid lightly back on the jar, he turns back to the futon, moves his shoes to the side, and kneels before the piece of furniture.

Grasping the handle at the bottom, careful not to spill his oh-so-appropriate gift, he gives a steady pull.

The Tarshish stashed there stares at him with gold coloured eyes. Inky black hair sticks to her flushed, tear-streaked face. Her wrists and ankles are bound to the panel tight enough he feels a halting trickle of concern that she may have lost circulation.

Her heaving chest is glimmering with sweat and he strokes her pierced, powder pink nipple with a gentle touch. "Fake?"

She's trembling so hard she's shivering now, barely able to nod.

Dashiir has left him a very pretty congratulatory gift.

 _It's not as though anyone will miss her,_ He thinks as he bends further to work his mouth over the side of her lace Mok'ket.

Tarshish rarely ever produce with Skin-Walkers anyway.

xXx

She's sleeping, tied to the fold-out bed, when Jintaborouhk gets up, feeling sated and smug.

Pulling on his clothes, he gives the girl one last glance before slipping out the door.

Down the hall, he spies a teal-haired Tarshish playing with a blonde-haired girl. She twirls around and around, frilly dress rising and flowing.

"Hey, Kanto," He says. When the man looks up from the buoyant little girl, Jintaborouhk tosses the keys to the Half-breed. "Go take care of the girl in my room, would you?"

Kanto catches the key ring on a single finger. "I'm here as Mercy's companion. Not your slave."

"Better you than _Dashiir._ "

Kanto's entire demeanor changes then. "Let me take Parren to Zero and I'll do that."

Smirking, Jintaborouhk pats the little blonde head as he saunters past. Kanto glares.

Over his shoulder, he says, "Oh, and Kanto?"

"What?" He spits.

"Please, by all means, feel free to use the girl to your content."

As he turns the corner, he hears Kanto cursing him. Parren asks him what's wrong.

And probably never gets a reply.

 

The Old Tower is decrepit. He ponders whether the spiral staircase is even safe to climb.  
Taking his Wolf Form, he takes the steps two at a time. Near the top, he takes his bipedal form, tan, broad shoulders and long legs.

Sorajin waits for him beside one of the windows. It once had shutters, but they've been worn away. What's left of them lies in splinters on the scuffed, worn marble floor. "Jinta," He says.

"That's Jintaborouhk, to you."

Beside him, stands a young woman. Her blonde hair is kept short, shaggy enough that it nearly hangs in her eyes. Eyes that carry a light grey colour and a parted pupil.

She can't be older than sixteen. A woman by Full-Blood standards - a child by the Human's.

"My Commander is not ready to marry. But she is interested in having a liaison with you."

Giving her a slow, languid once-over, Jintaborouhk is careful to leer. "Oh?

Sorajin shifts, "You see, Jinta-"

"Jinta _borouhk,_ " The Skin-Walker says.

"- Sven here is interested in you because you're the strongest of her generation."

"Is she mute?" He asks.

She steps forward, then. "I watched you win that tournament. You probably have many offers from women who want to bear your children."

In fact, he'd gotten a mixed review. Many flocked to him - Even those other than Skin-Walkers. Many hated him for besting Xach, the oldest champion alive. Folding his arms, he says, "Go on."

She pauses for a long moment. "I cannot offer you anything other than a casual relationship. I chose you because you have the stronger blood. Not only this, but you are our enemy. You can not get attached to someone such as I."

"Tired of all these walking quajen begging for your womanhood?"

She stares at him. Light eyes glowing with the setting sun. "I want someone who will challenge me."

"And I'm the one, huh?"

Tossing the heavy travelling cloak over her shoulder, baring her entire torso, she says, "You don't have to accept it. You didn't have to come all the way out here."

"But you think it's a sign that I did."

"I imagined you were going to see what's in it for you."

"And?"

"My blood is," She pauses, licks rose-pink lips. "Decent. I'm strong. And I would make a good mother for your cubs-"

"Woah! Woah!" Yells Jinta. "Who said anything about-"

"Should you choose to have them. We're both aware of the instinctual need you have to procreate and you aren't getting any younger."

"Ouch," He says. So he's twenty-six. Is that really so bad?

"But, for now, you'll have a no-strings involvement."

"So I get to fuck you pretty much any time, any where?"

"Within reason."

Jintaborouhk pauses at this.

"We'll give you some time to consider it, Jinta," Says Sorajin. His arm wraps around the girl's waist like a band of protection.

And they leave Jintaborouhk alone to consider his options.

He doesn't care about having all the bitches and Quint he can dream of. He wants the status.

He wants to be acknowledged as the best.

And Sven is well-hailed. Her father is Jezreel of the West. Her mother low-bred. But Sven was raised by Iiyo and Roxoi to know their ways. Trained by Renjin, to be competent.

And Jintaborouhk wants to be remembered. Wants to be loved and hated. Worshipped and feared.

xXx 

Dropping his cloak on the nearest Tarshish when he comes in the door, he sits at the kitchen breakfast bar, hair soaking wet from the heavy downpour and boots squeaking on pristine tile and wood.

Zero sits on the other side, Parren tucked on his lap and under his chin. At the age of nine, she happily munches on kii berries.

"Kanto?"

Zero glances down at his charge. "Out. He's prepared your Tarshish for your company."

With a smirk, Jintaborouhk leans across the bar and pats the small blonde head. "I've trained him so well."

Zero snarls, bares his teeth, and wraps his arms tighter around the girl, shielding her.

Parren looks up at him with curiosity, looks at Zero's unfriendly countenance, before turning back to Jintaborouhk and uttering a non-threatening, "Raaaweer!"

With a smirk, the Skin-Walker stands, pulls a canister of soup from the icebox and pours it into a pan on the stove. "He try her on?"

Zero gives him a long look, lips twisting. Parren wraps her arms around his neck and tangles her fingers in his carmine-coloured hair, little pink lips pecking against his cheek in the way little girls are want to do. "S'okay, Zero. Jinta isn't as mean as you think."

Zero turns, rubs his cheek against hers in a way only a father would his daughter and she squeals. It hurts Jintaborouhk's ears. "Your whiskers tickle!"

Jintaborouhk sips his steaming soup, watching the two interact. "You're getting old, Zero."

"Forty isn't that old, Jintaborouhk."

"Ah, but ask the Humans. They'll be amazed at you."

"Nobody cares about the opinion of Humans. Their ideal lifespan is only sixty years."

The Skin-Walker rolls his eyes, sets the pan in the basin. Strolling back to his room, he finds his newly acquired plaything on her knees, face down on the futon and hands tied to her spread calves.

Arousal spikes inside of him and he takes a moment to slide his hands over the soft skin and thin bones. Tries to picture short, blond hair instead of long and black. Imagines lustful red to be pink lips, open, panting in want instead of fear.

This woman is an hourglass, the other is not nearly as shapely. He wonders what she would sound like as his index finger penetrates her soft, slick, secret place. The Tarshish gasps, whimpers, and groans.

She chokes off a cry as he eases into her, becomes one with her. And he lingers on the idea that this Sven would want to lose her virginity.

His thrusts are brisk and deep and she moans and gasps and, eventually, pushes onto him. His hand settles in the middle of her spine, gently pressing down, her hips roll forward in response. He tangles his fingers in her hair to yank her head back, fangs sinking into the flesh of her shoulder like a hot blade through animal fat. Her scream pierces his eardrums. He groans as his release rocks him hard.

And it's while he's locked inside, shuddering hard and gasping her name that he knows he has to have her.

He needs to have Sven.

If only to satisfy his curiosity. If only to see the stunned look on Sorajin's face when she turns on the Human. The Tarshish squirms underneath him and he settles firm, guiding fingers over the sides of her neck. "Hold still."

She sniffles, "Please. It hurts."

 

xXx

 

The wooden hair pieces, hanging behind the ears of both Sven and Sorajin _click_ and _clack_ in the wind. Her hair is longest in these pieces and Jintaborouhk wonders how she manages it.

He stretches as he preps for what's going to be a vigorous workout. She doesn't move, cloak flapping in the wind, and revealing small, pert breasts and Renjin's crest on the left side of her ribcage.

"Rules?" He asks.

Sorajin tilts his head, licks his chapped lips. "If she says, _liiyen,_ you stop. Hurt her but do not kill her or leave her severely injured." Sven's eyes close, a flush creeping up her neck and cheeks. "Knot her but do not breed her."

Jintaborouhk is surprised at such a statement. Surprised that he can say it so easily without a speck of awkwardness or embarrassment. "Done."

Sven reaches up slender, strong hands and unclasps the gold broach on her cloak. She pulls it from her shoulders, handing it to Sorajin's outstretched hand. Jintaborouhk lets his instincts flare. Lets his body change shape as Sven's does.

He watches her Bear Form disappear into the woods, gives her a head start before following and chasing her down.

Over logs and through a stream, startling the meeks and the catching the attention of luumas.

His equal mass knocks against hers, throwing her into the great trunk of a tree. Her form reverts to bipedal and she is gasping for breath, twirling a knife around her finger by the loop at the end of the hilt.

Closing in on her with slow, intentional grace, circling closer as he breathes in her growing fear and desire.

Their eyes lock and her scent spikes.

He lunges and she rolls away from the tree. Claws spark against her knife. Teeth snap as she darts away.

Racing back through the trees, she drops to the grass as he leaps towards her, skidding several feet and feeling irked that she practically slipped through his paws.

With a growl, he turns to face her Bear Form. They circle again and again as he looks for an opening. Shooting towards her like a cannonball, he watches her move to snap her own razor sharp teeth at him. Smells her surprise when he doesn't stop to attack her.

He waits for a moment or two before rounding back, creeping through the trees and careful of the twigs. Her small rounded ears twitch as he approaches but she doesn't appear to be expecting him.

Then he waits.

The birds don't chirp, the squirrels are still and even the insects have gone quiet.

Sven turns and lunges. Jintaborouhk clamps his teeth over the space between her neck and shoulder and flips her, holding her there with sheer strength as she writhes against him in effort to get off her back. Her teeth narrowly miss his ear and he twitches it away from her snapping, snarling fangs. The tang of blood makes him ache and he gives her a rough shake.

Instantly, she stills. Grey eyes meet his dark gaze and they both know the game is over.

He gives her white coat another good squeeze before licking at it. She nips at his flicking ears and he growls.

At the echoing growl he receives, he nips at her hip. He can smell the arousal she's putting off.

What bothers him is how musky it is.

 _Maybe,_ he reasons to himself, _bears, during copulation, smell different._

Lapping at the slit between her thighs, she pants hard. He's feeling his erection dripping from his sheath. He's getting used to the taste, learning to enjoy it when he suddenly gets a mouthful of More-than-he-bargained-for. Jerking back and sputtering, spitting frantically, he changes back to his bipedal form.

Sven follows, looking extremely confused. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You have a dick!"

Sven blinks, confused. "Don't you have a vagina?"

With a long, confused stare, Jintaborouhk says, "What in the fuck?"

Standing, she dusts herself off. "Master Iiyo said it was normal..."

Pointing at her smooth, glistening pubis, he says, "No way in Yinkya's name is that normal."

When her brows draw together, he says, "I've had plenty of pussy in my Other Form. I know what that's supposed to look like."

Sven's face flushes with what Jintaborouhk thinks is shame and embarrassment. A glance down shows him that in this Form, her anatomy is perfect.

With a huff, he says, "Come here."

She turns away from him, staring at the ground.

"Come _here,_ " He says, voice firm.

With a sigh, she draws near, uncomfortably straddles his lap. He grunts at the weight on his crotch. She's slick as her nether region cups him between its soft lips.

Gripping her slim hips, he rubs her up and down his length.

She squirms and shoves against him. "I want to do this right. Not the way Sorajin thinks I should."

Getting up, she pulls away before he can grab her again and makes a run for it. With a sigh, he stands, beginning to ache with want. Smearing her juices from his cock and onto his hand. Breathing deep, he engulfs himself in the scent of her growing desire.

His cock twitches and he's quick to go on the hunt again, prowling through the forest and the tall grass. His legs are longer, sense of smell sharper.

It's in a clearing that he finally tackles her. She eats dirt and struggles against his strong hands.

She goes stiffer than a board when the head of his cock brushes against her crack and he groans.

She's panting when he runs his hands up her back. "Oh, Yinkya."

"Ready?"

Shifting to get comfortable, Sven says, "I didn't think I'd feel so strongly when I said this, but yes. I need you."

In the coolness of the day, he teaches Sven their ways.

xXx

He notices he's a lot more relaxed when he returns home. Anayo and Dashiir give him a strange look but say nothing.

Ma'hale takes the whole thing in stride but Mercy is analyzing him.

Kanto knows.

Kanto stops mid-step when he passes and turns to look at him. "You-"

He doesn't get the chance. Jintaborouhk slams him against the wall with his forearm. "Don't say anything or I'll stick my dick in every hole Parren has to offer."

With a glare, Kanto, bares his teeth. His gloves glow. "Don't you fucking _touch_ her."

"I'm warning you now. So don't bitch to me when you find her panties around her ankles."

Kanto spits on his face and Jintaborouhk's fist collides with that of the other man's. They both fall to the floor in a heap of aggression and blood.

"Kanto," Says Zero, voice stern. "That's enough."

Kanto is reluctant to pull away.

Jintaborouhk smirks at him before moving on. "Cuddle your girl while you can, Kanto," He calls over his shoulder. "Because we know I don't play around."

"Don't worry, Kanto," Says Zero. "I won't let anything happen."

And Jintaborouhk smirks, twirling a set of keys he swiped from Kanto's pocket.

 _Free access to anything Zero related,_ Thinks the Skin-Walker as he steps into his room inhabited by a small gaggle of Tarshish. _Jackpot._

Even sweeter are his scheduled appointments to fuck Sven.

Jintaborouhk has almost everything.

Now all he needs is his place as Head of his family.

And _Monavere's_ head.


End file.
